Identity Crisis
by Nittles
Summary: There comes that time in everybody's life when they're forced to face their biggest fears. Some fears are trivial, some fears hide in the shadows. Fear defines you, it defines all of us. It has the ability to make you see things that weren't even there to begin with. AU BeChloe. Based on Identity (Film) & Catcher in the Rye (Book).


**A/N: This has taken me ages to get it to a place where I feel happy where it's headed. I am quite excited about this and I hope you are too! Please review, I really appreciate feedback of any kind!**

There comes that time in everybody's life when they're forced to face their biggest fears. Some fears are trivial, like there being nobody in your house to kill that horrible spider that is lurking in the corner of your room, or your best friend telling you that she's been offered an amazing six month internship with a major fashion company based in Europe. Some fears hide in the shadows, like the fear that you're always going to be alone, and that nobody will ever love you. Even worse, the fear that the people who do love you will one day just up and leave, never to be seen again.

Look, I don't really want to start by telling you how terrible life can be. I mean, you're human too. It's just, when it comes down to it, there's a reason that we're all the way we are. Think about it. You don't like swimming pools? That's fine, but it doesn't have _anything _to do with the fact you watched a young boy being dragged out of the water and worked on whilst everybody else grabbed their own children in a state of panic? I thought not.

I am scared of many things. I spent a lot of my childhood alone. My mom was a single parent, trying to make things meet in a rough neighbourhood. Most of the time she wasn't even around, but every now and again she'd bring home something hot to eat, but most of the time I lived off bread and oranges.

I was born in Nevada, by the way, if you're interested. It's here where most of my story unfolds.

I rub the sore marks on my wrist tenderly. They've been rubbed raw, and I clench my fists and let out a mean hiss as I feel a fresh wave of pain shoot through my body.

"What else do you remember from back then?"

A woman's voice rang out around the room and my eyes snap open as I am remember I am not alone. It's easy done, she's not exactly interesting. The woman eyes me curiously, jotting nonsense in her notebook as she does so.

I know exactly what she was referring to. I mean, whenever somebody wants to delve inside your mind their first port of call is always your childhood. Did you have both parents, were there signs of abuse or neglect? I'm pretty sure these people would die from shock if they ever stumbled across somebody who had a _normal _childhood, whatever that is.

I laugh at her forwardness and lean back in my chair, eyeing her carefully. "Don't bear around the bush, doc!" I watch with a smirk as her eyes grow wide before she nods comprehensively.

My voice sounds way more aggressive than I give it credit for. In these meetings, I like to feel like I am in complete control. The woman looks to have fully recovered, and part of me is sure that I had imagined the temporary look of fear in her eyes. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, her pen still held firmly in her right hand.

"Tell me what you remember about your mother." It is a simple demand, but I can feel the fire start to ignite in my gut. I wince at the pain.

"I remember my Mum," I nod solemnly, refusing to break contact with the older woman opposite me. "I remember my mum was a _whore_."

Okay, so when I complained about people trying to pick apart our childhoods, I didn't say it because I was innocent. I mean, my Mum would lock me in motel rooms before going out to entertain strangers for a few bucks. I was made to feel alone, and be alone, most of my childhood life. I had no family, no prospects and no future. I am allowed to be resentful for that, right?

"How long did she keep you there?" What is it with all of these questions?

I laugh bitterly and grip the side of the chair, the pain in my wrists all but forgotten.

"As long as she was busy."

She pauses; satisfied with the answers I am giving. She leans back and starts scribbling once more. I am curious, of course. I never really understand why I am forced to cooperate in the meetings. They seem so pointless. I'm pretty sure she sees the wheels turning in my head, because she soon changes tact.

"Do you understand why you're talking with me now?"

I nod, scratching the back of my head as I squeeze my eyes tight shut. My whole body seems to ache, and it's taking every ounce of strength I have not to allow myself to drift off to another place entirely. I mean, that's just rude. I sigh.

"Yeah, you're supposed to be good with… headaches. I need something more than aspirin… Know what I mean?" I wink, and she gives a disapproving grunt.

"Who am I speaking to right now?" She presses on, determined to ignore my distractions. "What should I call you?"

"Call me whatever you want." She nods and abruptly calls time on our meeting, hastily shoving her belongings in her hand bag before charging out of the room. I watch her retreating back intently before resting my head in my hands.

My brain hurts.

-x-

"Brian, Brian. You awake?" A panicked voice rung through the receiver as soon as said man connected the call.

"As a matter of fact, I am awake," the man sighs heavily as he rubs his forehead with his hand and makes to sit up.

"Alright, look. I'm sorry to bother you at home, but, uh, there's going to be a midnight trial in the Mitchell case. The defence, they found a notebook misfiled in evidence, a diary. They argued to the state Supremes that it was suppressed."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The man is fully awake now, rage flooding through his veins. This could not be happening. Not tonight. Not when they were so close to the day that they had all been waiting for.

"The diary gave them an opening to plead insanity again."


End file.
